


"No, come back!"

by AuthorinExile



Series: Fictober 2020 [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M, Hardened Alistair (Dragon Age), Romance, Unrequited Love, Warden (Dragon Age) Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29252130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorinExile/pseuds/AuthorinExile
Summary: Zevran had known it was coming. He is not a man who gets to be happy.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Unrequited Alistair/Female Warden, Zevran Arainai/Female Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Series: Fictober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2147928
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	"No, come back!"

**Author's Note:**

> This fic inspired by the fact that I love Zevran to pieces, I think he has one of the best romances simply because he has so much baggage and such difficulty with opening up to others, and also I killed his girlfriend and he apparently never loved again. Sorry, Zev.

Zevran had known it was coming.

Well, no, that’s a lie.

Zevran had known _something_ was coming. He had known something was coming since that first night when Mahariel had told him that she _cared_ about him. It wasn’t the first night she spent in his tent, of course. Neither of them thought that way. But it wasn’t _that_ long after that first night either, really. 

She was still catching her breath, having just rolled off and away from him, when she turned to him with that bright smile that made her cheeks dimple.

“You’re gorgeous, Zev. Have I told you that lately?”

And Zevran had laughed, which was exactly what she had been hoping for.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, you tend to say so frequently and enthusiastically whenever you can. Still, it is nice to hear.”

“Well, I don’t want you getting a big head,” Mahariel teased, rolling over to sling an arm across his chest and trace her finger over the tattoos curling over his shoulder. “Let me assure you that you have other redeeming qualities beyond mere looks.”

Zevran, cheeky shit that he is, grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Alright, Warden, but I warn you, even _my_ impressive stamina has its limitations.”

Mahariel shook her head and gave a little snort that wrinkled her nose in the prettiest way. Zevran tried, and failed, to ignore the little lurch in his stomach when she turned those piercing eyes on him.

“ _Actually_ ,” she said, “I was being sincere. A difficult concept for you, I know, but try to keep up if you would. No, I’m serious, Zev, you’re… You’re _you_. You’re clever and funny and strong-willed, and you have this indomitable sense of… of kindness. You’re so kind, Zevran, even when you try to hide it. You’re wonderful.”

And Zevran just… stared.

He just stared at Mahariel, at the way her face smoothed over so carefully when she realized what she’d just said in so many words, because despite his many partners and his time with Rinna and Taliesen, no one had ever talked about him like that. No one had ever talked about him with that tone in their voice and that look on their face. Not to him directly. Not as if they _meant_ it.

Zevran Arainai, for the first time in many years, was speechless.

And while he floundered, Mahariel said, as though he could not tell, “I...care about you, Zevran. Quite a bit.”

She paused, but Zevran’s heart gave that awful wonderful little twist again, and he was terrified of what would spill out of him if he opened his mouth. Nothing he was ready to say, he knew.

Mahariel faltered.

“I-It’s okay, you know, if you don’t--”

“I do,” Zevran blurted, surprising himself by meaning it. “I do.”

Mahariel had just smiled in that way she has that demands a smile in return, and he had pulled her down into his arms.

That night was the first night that Zevran knew something was coming because he wasn’t the type of man who got to be that happy without cosmic retribution being swift and unforgiving.

So, yes, Zevran knew that _something_ was coming.

He just didn’t know what.

The night Alistair had approached her with the flower, Zevran thought that was it. That was the end of it. They had a good run, he and the Warden, but it was over now, and it was better this way. There would be no hard feelings between them--nor between he and Alistair--because Mahariel was dear to him, and she had done much for him, and she did not deserve his ire. Alistair, being Mahariel’s best friend and sure to treat her well, was not deserving of it either.

And, on top of all that, Zevran was a selfish man, and he did not want to lose Mahariel’s companionship even if he lost her love.

But when she said nothing to him, did not end their dalliances, he approached her himself, and… 

And she chose him. 

So that was not it either.

There had been other moments where Zevran thought, “Ah, so _this_ is it, then.” Many, many other moments.

An ogre lifting him into the air, brought down by Mahariel’s cleverly thrown and perfectly timed daggers.

The Broodmother sweeping him effortlessly across the room in a move that would have killed him if Wynne had not been so near to his landing place.

A werewolf pouncing at his throat in the middle of a haunted forest, stopped only by the dog’s fearsome counter.

Perhaps most frightening--and, though he’d never know it, truly the closest he’d ever been to being right--was the attack on their campsite by that ghoul with the Dalish armor. Tamlen, the name had once been. Mahariel had shut down completely, closed herself off from everyone, and it had taken days for her to finally crack and weep the entire story into his patient embrace.

But, somehow, none of that had been that final thing. None of those awful things had been the one _truly_ awful thing he could sense on the horizon, ever approaching.

So Zevran convinced himself it was paranoia.

He had had a difficult life. He was projecting his past pain onto an indiscernible future, and there was nothing wrong with that, but if he wasn’t careful, it would ruin the best thing to ever happen to him.

He gives her his earring.

She takes it, kisses him so sweetly, and later, when they’re alone, wheedles the reason behind it out of him.

He expects teasing or a refusal, but he never gets it. Mahariel’s eyes soften in that way that happens so rarely, happens only in camp or when they are alone, and she kisses him softly on his cheek. She whispers that she loves him into his ear, and Zevran nearly weeps with the relief and love that swells around him.

He stops thinking that something is coming. They’re going to be just fine. Once this business with the Archdemon is over, they’ll be free to...do something. Deal with Grey Warden business, probably. Run off and adventure together, perhaps. Retire on a farm somewhere--but no, neither of them are suited for settling down at all, that’s just silly--but maybe. _Maybe_.

For days, Zevran’s head swims with sweet possibility.

And then, when they’re standing there atop Fort Drakon, and the wounded Archdemon is just beginning to stir again, the sun catches on his earring in Mahariel’s ear, and Zevran’s stomach sinks.

She’s exchanging looks with Alistair, the future king of Ferelden, and something passes between them that Zevran can’t possibly understand.

But he understands the result of it.

“No,” he whispers when Mahariel turns her face to his.

“ _No,_ ” he pleads against her lips when she kisses him.

She turns and sprints at the fallen dragon and Zevran, incapable of following after her, shouts, “No, no, _no. No!_ Come _back!”_

But she doesn’t.

Later, people will ask if any of them knew what was coming. People will ask if her companions suspected anything. People will ask if her companions knew what she was planning, what was being demanded of her.

Zevran will say no.

Zevran will say no, and then his eyes will catch Alistair’s-- _King_ Alistair’s eyes, and Zevran will see the steely glint in the eyes of Mahariel’s best friend, of another man who had loved Mahariel just as he had, of the one person Mahariel would discuss even the most delicate of topics with.

Zevran says no, no one knew anything.

On some level, he knows it’s a lie.


End file.
